


Say Uncle

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: @posingasme, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Guardian Castiel, M/M, Therapist Sam Winchester, Troubled Claire Novak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Castiel is way out of his depth. He's the guardian of an out of control, angry teenage girl, and he doesn't have the first idea about how to help her. Sam is a therapist who helps families communicate and work together, and he's been asked by a colleague to befriend the poor befuddled uncle before he goes off the deep end entirely.





	1. Not a Typical Uncle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dmsilvis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmsilvis/gifts), [rosworms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosworms/gifts).



Growing up in a religious, conservative family had been difficult. Attending a religious, conservative private school had been a struggle. Coming out to friends and family as a seventeen year old had been a nightmare. There had been challenges throughout his life. But raising a teenage girl was the hardest thing Castiel had ever had to do.

Of course, if she kept running away, it would all be for nothing.

Castiel lifted an eyebrow at the boy with his thumb in Claire's belt loop. “What are you doing?” he growled.

Claire whirled, nearly breaking the boy's thumb. “Cas!”

“Hello, Claire.”

The other two punks stood up from their skateboards and stepped forward. “Who are you? You’re too old to be a skater, grandpa.”

Castiel did not like these boys. “I'm not your average skateboarder,” he responded with narrowing eyes. “I don't…dress like a stoner,” he added, with finger quotation marks. “I don't ‘know how to skateboard.’ I don't ‘disrespect authority.’ I've never ‘been on a skateboard.’”

“Oh my god,” Claire moaned in embarrassment. “You're ruining my life right now. Do you realize that?”

The three boys began to laugh. The one who had been entirely too close to his niece took a threatening step toward Castiel. “Why don't you leave the girl alone, old man? We're not doing anything wrong. Just messing around.”

But Castiel was not intimidated by this slender, unwashed boy in a gray tee shirt and beanie cap. The kid must not be very good at skateboarding, Castiel noted, considering how many rips his tight jeans had. “You will not be messing around with this girl anymore. Do you know she's only fourteen?”

Claire threw her hands up and shrieked in frustration.

At last, the boys looked less confident. “She said she was-”

“She's fourteen. And you will leave her alone. She's under my protection.”

“Whatever, man. Don't get pissy. We're just having some fun.”

“Have your fun elsewhere. She belongs three counties away. If I see you near her again, I will hit one of you with the other two. Go.”

“Come on, guys. Dude’s lost his mind.”

“Freaking psycho,” another spat.

But they each sped away on their boards with skates, and Castiel turned to Claire.

She glowered at him. “God, I hate you!”

It never failed to fluster him when she looked him square in the eyes like that. “Claire, I'm only trying to look out for-”

“I can take care of myself!”

“You have to listen to me! I'm your-”

“You are not my father,” she hissed beneath her breath.

He swallowed hard, and took a breath. “Well, you should still listen to me. I-I resemble your father,” he stammered.

“You are so lame. You're the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Castiel thought that was unfair, considering that both her parents were dead and she had been expelled from the private high school he and his brother had graduated from. Compared to that, Castiel couldn't possibly be worse.

“Whatever. Take me home. You know I'll be gone by tomorrow.”

“I'll watch the doors all night.”

“You have to sleep sometime.”

“No-no, I don't,” he argued pitifully.

She rolled her eyes, and said nothing when he took hold of her elbow and led her to the car. She immediately put in her earbuds and pulled her cap down over her eyes, to make it painfully clear there would be no conversation.

Castiel sighed, and drove the three hours back home in silence.

“Good night,” he called hoarsely as she stormed up the stairs of his house.

“I hate you!” she reminded him in a singsong voice without bothering to look back at him.

He dropped down onto the couch. His rough hand rubbed his eyes, and he gave a weary groan as he realized he was going to have to spend yet another night sleeping there in the living room to be sure Claire did not sneak out the door. He had already sealed her window, and the one in the guest room. None of the others upstairs would work for her escapes. So she was forced to use the doors if she wanted to leave. He had the kitchen door blocked by a cabinet, so her last option was the front door, through the living room.

He just had to keep her in school and in the house another four years. He could probably sleep on the couch that long. It wouldn't be so bad. He could do it.

“For the record,” he muttered into the dark, “I never wanted kids, Jimmy.”

His absent twin brother didn't respond.

“You had to know I would suck at this. What were you thinking making me her guardian? I can barely take care of myself.” Castiel let the tears that had burned his eyes all night stream down now, as he lay his weary head to rest. “I love her, Jimmy. I do. But I've never been the man our father wanted me to be, and now I'm not the man her father needs me to be. I'll keep doing whatever I can to keep her safe. I promise. But if you're up there smirking down at me...a little help would be nice. I miss you, Jimmy.”

The silence around him was his only answer, and the only thing he had heard from his brother in too many months.

***

“Thank you, Jody. I'll be sure to send you some flowers or something.”

A gentle snort came over the line. “Send coffee or wine. It's the only currency I deal in.”

Sam smiled to himself. “Noted.” He hung up to scribble on his pad of paper. Jo Harvelle had been found, alive and mostly well, and he could give Ellen the good news. Good was relative, considering Jo was facing battery charges after having throttled a guy who had tried to grope her. But Sam felt certain that would get worked out. The guy had it coming, and Jody thought the charges would probably get dropped. He hoped so. He hated having to testify in court.

He’d had an exhausting session with Krissy Chambers and her father that morning, and Jody had indicated that she and Alex could probably use a visit soon, if he could fit them in. The Banes kids were on his docket for the afternoon, but both their mother and Max had called in separately to reschedule, which left Alecia exasperated, and Sam had tried working with her alone, but she had spent the whole session making excuses for her absent brother and mother. Kevin Tran’s mother had a habit of trying to psychoanalyze Sam himself, making it difficult to make any progress during their sessions.

Sam was worn out. So when a colleague called to ask him for an assist, he was tempted to say he was too busy. But he reminded himself that next time, he might be the one stumped, and he'd like to think he could get some help.

“Okay. Tell me what you've got.”

“An uncle.”

Sam cringed. That was never a good start. “Okay. He hurt the kid?”

“No. No, he's the guardian.”

“Okay,” he said a third time.

“Both parents dead, no other family. This guy is completely over his head.”

He smiled tiredly, and rubbed his eyes. “That's where all parents are.”

“Yeah, but this one is totally clueless. She's smart, has him completely unwound.”

“How old?”

“Fourteen. But she'll tell you she's nineteen.”

“Of course she will. Okay. Uncle wants therapy for her, came to you.” He was hoping to move this along.

“She duct taped him to the living room couch while he slept. He was guarding the door so she couldn't run in the middle of the night.”

Sam lifted his head from his hands. “Wow.”

“And two weeks ago, he lost his job because he had to call out or leave early so often to deal with her school suspensions.”

He cringed again. “Ouch. And we're pretty sure he isn't-”

“Sam, this guy isn't hurting her. He can barely raise his voice. She's walking all over him. She's certainly got her own anger and pain to work through, and I got that. Counseling them together, I can do that too.”

“Then what do you need from me?”

“The guy needs someone who can sit him down and tell him he's going to make it.”

Sam smirked, and rubbed at his eyes. “That's not what I do.”

“But you can. And you have. And you should. This man just inherited a teenager when his twin brother died. He needs someone to help him through this. It wouldn't be ethical for me to do it, but you…”

“Cara, I'm pretty busy now. Why not just send him to one of my classes?”

“Oh, I'll do that too. But, Sam, he's a good guy. He just needs someone who can check in on him now and then.”

Sam wasn't going to say no, and they both knew it. “Dr. Roberts, I don't like you very much.”

“We've had entirely too much sex over the years for me to believe that.”

“It's a small town, Cara, and we’re both too busy to go someplace else to find company.”

“You're so sweet, Sam. That's what I love about you.”

“Send me his contact information. And stop caring about your clients so much. It's damn unprofessional.”

She gave him a beautiful laugh. It was their running joke between them, ever since an older colleague had scolded them at a conference for working so many hours and checking in with families they worked with while they were away from their offices, telling them they were going to burn themselves out. “Good night, Sam.”

“Miss you, Cara.” He hung up the phone and shook his head at the clock. It was lonely working this office, now that Cara had opened her own across town. They rarely had time to chat even when they worked two doors apart, but each knew the other was there whenever they felt overwhelmed or frustrated, and needed to talk something out. Now it was just Sam.

So when Cara’s text came through with the man's information, he figured he may as well call right away. He didn't have much else going on.

“Hello? Claire?”

Sam smiled. He had slipped his jacket on, and was about to leave the office, but instead sat on the waiting room couch. “Mr. Novak?”

“Yes. What did she do? I'll-I'll pay for whatever-”

He couldn't help laughing a little. “No, Mr. Novak. I'm Dr. Sam Winchester.”

“Is she all right?” The man was beginning to sound breathless. “She's supposed to be on the trip with the archery team-I knew I shouldn't have let her-”

“Mr. Novak! It's all right! I'm a colleague of Dr. Roberts, and she was worried about you. She just asked me to call and see if you needed anything.”

The man burst into sobs over the line. “Need anything?” he repeated. “A job where they don't mind me having to come in late, leave early and miss days all together, because I'm chasing my runaway niece all over creation. A good night of sleep where I don't have to wake up every half hour to make sure she's not tunneling her way to the nearest city. An hour to myself to grieve my brother and his wife the way they deserve. My first drink in nine months to settle my shattered nerves, which fracture even worse every time the phone rings. No, sir. I don't need anything at all. I'm the model of self-sufficiency. The epitome of the calm and collected parent.”

A sad smile bloomed on Sam's face. “Is Claire out for the evening?”

“I know I shouldn't have let her go. But I know the coach, and I think this team is good for her, and...and…”

“And you need an evening to yourself.”

“I'm a horrible parent,” he breathed without his voice.

He laughed, but not unkindly. “When will she be back?”

“Tomorrow night. Competition is in the morning. We went straight from Dr. Roberts to the school, and Coach Singer promised he would text me to let me know everything was all right tonight when they got to the hotel, and again in the morning, and…” He stopped and seemed to realize he was rambling. “Tomorrow night,” he repeated. “Unless they win in the morning, and then they'll stay and compete Saturday morning too. But they aren't expected to make it to the next round. I know I should be there. But I need…”

“You need some rest,” Sam soothed. “And I know Bobby Singer up at the high school. He's a good man. He’ll take care of her. You can relax.”

“You know Coach Singer?”

“Yeah. Taught me and my brother bowhunting as kids. We used to call him Uncle Bobby. And I can tell you, there's no sneaking out while he's supervising. Claire's in good hands. So let's take a minute to worry about you.”

Castiel heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I mean, no, I really-I'm fine. I just need some…” He laughed wearily. “I don't know what I need.”

“Well, have you eaten anything?”

There was a pause. Then: “I...don't think I've eaten at all today. I kind of...forgot.”

“Okay. If you're a friend of Bobby's, you're practically family.”

“Friend might be a bit strong. He's more like my kick in the ass when I need one.”

“That's what he is for everyone. That's how you know you're Bobby's friend. So let me take you to get some dinner. It sounds like you can use all the friends you can get.”

“Are you a real person?”

Sam burst into laughter. “I think so.”

“Dr. Roberts must think I'm completely hopeless.”

“She thinks you could use a friend,” he reiterated. “I'm on Myers Street. There's a Chinese place at the corner of Hampton. You up for that?”

“I will be there in ten minutes.”

He laughed again at the urgency. “It'll take me at least that long. Don't hurry. I don't want to be a new source of stress for you, Mr. Novak.”

“Cas. Castiel. I'm...I'm Castiel. And I will be there in ten. You take your time. I'll be there.”

Sam found himself looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The skateboard conversation was borrowed from @hashtagdion on Tumblr, sent to me by @rosworms. The argument that Castiel resembles Jimmy is from @dmsilvisart.


	2. Defective

The restaurant was easy enough to find. What was difficult was figuring out what to do once he was there. After much deliberation, he decided to take a table and order coffee. That seemed like the casual thing to do. Not that Castiel had a particularly good concept of casual. But he tried.

Since he was a child, he had always looked to Jimmy to know how to behave. Castiel had studied Jimmy's mannerisms obsessively, and recreated them exactly whenever he was unsure in a social situation. Which was most of the time.

Castiel understood the reasons behind many gestures and facial expressions. For example, he was painfully aware what Claire's excessive eye rolls meant. He did not tend to use such movements himself to communicate, but he had learned to watch for them in others. Social expectations were hard to anticipate. He often didn't realize he had stepped outside of what was normal until someone was upset with him. Even though he didn't always know someone was angry or hurt, once he was made aware, he was crushed with guilt and frustration. He never wanted to make anyone feel that way.

When their father had found out Castiel preferred men, he had grown red in the face, which he knew meant either anger or embarrassment. He waited to speak again until he was sure which. He watched with a narrow gaze to catch his father's frustratingly subtle expressions.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had clamored to speak up. “Dad, he's just saying-You know, he's just saying-”

Castiel thought perhaps Jimmy's stammering indicated that he didn't know the vocabulary, so he helped. “Homosexual. It means the-”

“I know what it means,” their father had roared.

He licked his lips and frowned down at his feet. “I apologize then,” he said softly.

“Why the hell would you say that?” The man threw his hands in the air. “You don't even interact with any girls!”

Castiel glanced at Jimmy for guidance, but his brother was sighing into his hand. “I don't,” he confirmed. He spoke slowly, as he tried to get a handhold on this situation. “But you asked if I was interested in any of the girls at school. I'm not. But to clarify that it isn't because of a lack of nice girls, I continued by explaining that I don't want to date girls in general. Not that they want to date me, because I'm sure they don't. But even putting that factor aside, I don't have any attraction to them. And I think that's what you meant by interested.” He looked at Jimmy again. “Isn't it?”

Jimmy's hand hit his forehead now. “Dad-”

“Did you know about this?” their father demanded.

Castiel watched both faces intently.

Jimmy gave a shrug that Castiel interpreted as uncomfortable, though he wasn't entirely certain why. “Did I know Cas is gay? Yeah, I mean, I guess...It's never really been an issue. He barely talks to anyone our age!”

And it still wasn't an issue. Castiel had lived another seventeen years since that awful day in the late ‘90s, and even though he was far better at socializing than he had been then, he was still mostly alone.

Bobby Singer had adopted him when he had met him in a bookstore. Castiel had been sorting the books on the shelves.

“You okay, son?”

He had looked up and nodded. “I'm fine.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

The older man had smirked at him. “Because you don't work here, I'm guessing, but you sure are volunteering.”

“I'm not.” He sighed a little. “Sometimes when I find a book out of place, I get agitated. And so I put it where it should be, and then I inevitably find another, and...and then I can't stop.”

Bobby had nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, tell you what. It'll go much faster with two of us, so long’s you promise we stop after this section right here. Deal?”

Castiel stared in shock, then reminded himself people didn't like being stared at. “That's incredibly kind of you. Do you know how to sort books?”

His new friend snorted. “Kid, I've been ‘round the block a few times. I'll make do.”

They straightened the shelves in companionable silence for several minutes, until they could find no more out of order. Castiel sighed with satisfaction, and turned to the other man. “I'm Cas,” he said.

“Bobby Singer. You're an interesting fella, ain't you, Cas?”

“Oh, no, sir. Not at all. Most people find me very boring. You should look for the sign outside.”

Bobby had blinked at him. “What's that?”

“You said you went around the block several times before coming into the shop. They have a sign specifically to let you know you've arrived.”

The man lifted his ball cap from his head and scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “I'll try that next time.”

Castiel liked being helpful, especially when others helped him. He didn't even have to remind himself to smile.

Bobby smiled too. “Don't let anyone tell you you're boring, kid. World’s full of idgits that don't know better.”

He appreciated the sentiment, but he leaned in to quietly help again. “I don't think you pronounced that correctly,” he advised in a whisper.

Now, it was years later. Between Jimmy's patient example and Bobby's blessedly blunt corrections, Castiel was far more capable in social situations. Sometimes it took a while before someone even noticed he was odd now. For the most part, his speech pattern had relaxed enough to make him sound almost like Jimmy at his best, and at least like a functioning adult at worst.

He hoped Dr. Winchester would be patient with him. He had been right. Castiel could use a friend.

***

Sam found the man sitting in front of an untouched coffee with his hands in his lap. He wasn't sure how he knew this was Castiel, except that he looked nearly as awkward as he had sounded on the phone. He approached the table with a smile. “Hey, Cas?”

Intense blue eyes lifted, and slightly too much time passed before the man returned the smile. “Hello, Dr. Winchester.”

He nodded, and set his coat down. He noticed Castiel was still wearing his, even though it was not particularly cool in the room. “It's Sam. I'm glad you could come.”

“I appreciate you asking. It's been a long time since anyone did that.”

Now that he was so close, he could see how attractive the man was. “You seem nice enough,” he responded.

Castiel shrugged. “I'm nice. I'm just not very good company.”

The matter of fact way the man had reported that made Sam laugh with surprise. “What do you do, Cas?”

A frown formed. “I don't know exactly. I'm just not very much fun. Claire says I'm lame.”

The therapist could feel his chuckle bubbling from his throat, and he tried to bite it down. “I meant what sort of work do you do.”

Realization bloomed on the man's cheeks, and he seemed relieved at the change of subject. “Oh. I'm a chemist.” He shrugged. “Although I'm no longer employed. I used to work for a chemical engineering company, before I became a terrible parent. They had enough of me putting Claire's needs constantly ahead of my work.”

Sam saw the flash of frustration in the blue eyes, and he nodded. “That's not a terrible parent, Cas,” he corrected gently. “That's a good parent who could use some help.”

He looked unconvinced, but grateful. “I'm glad someone thinks so. Claire says I'm ruining her life. I'm apparently the worst thing that has ever happened to her. Worse, I suppose, than losing my brother and his wife, and being forced to leave the school she had attended.”

“Cas, kids say things like that because they know it hurts. They don't mean it. They're hurt, so they want you to hurt too, even though you're not the cause of their grief.”

Castiel stared at him. “I don't express hurt when she says those things. I don't...I don't really express anything, not like people expect me to.”

Connections were forming in Sam's mind now, and he watched Castiel carefully. The man was doing the same to him, in the same sort of academic way.

The chemist licked his lips carefully. “And what do you do, Sam? You're a therapist?”

“I am. I'm a therapist and a psychiatrist. And because I am, I can't help but notice...Cas, I don't want to be presumptuous, but could I ask you something personal?”

“I cried while we were on the phone, Sam. I'm certain I've got nothing to hide.”

The dry tone in his voice made Sam smile again. “Cas, are you on the spectrum?”

“We are all on many spectrums,” he confirmed. “I'm likely a five on the Kinsey scale, though there are many problems with that designation, and I think there are better ways of-”

“Autism, Castiel,” Sam laughed. “I mean autism.”

“I'm high-functioning,” he said quickly.

“I can see that.” He held back his smirk.

Castiel took a deep breath. “I apologize. Psychologists tend to focus on sexuality. As a man trained in hard sciences, I find it unnerving the way sexuality and emotions and things like that are treated as if they can be studied scientifically. If it isn't genetic, which it clearly isn't, I don't see how we can account for all the brain chemicals and nerve responses, including the way certain body types are favored visually, and certain genitals are favored sexually. I can tell you the exact chemical makeup of someone's drawn blood, thyroid activity or anything else of the sort, but making any sense of it all, and why it causes certain behaviors...There are far too many factors involved to ever make decisive conclusions about any one individual, let alone find the experience to be replicable.”

Sam liked this man. He couldn't say what it was-and maybe Castiel had a point about that-but there was a sort of strange, accidental charisma about him. Sam was fascinated. “Well, I’d like to counter, if I may, on two points. Firstly, you say it, by which I assume you mean sexuality or perhaps behavior, is not genetic. There is a great deal of evidence that there is a genetic component after all. We know that certain personality traits can run in the family-”

“Because they are learned.” Castiel shook his head, but his eyes were sparkling suddenly, as if this debate were pleasing him. “Trust me. Virtually all my outward social behavior is learned. Most people don't have to study as I have. They pick it up naturally in a way I cannot. But it is still learned.”

“Certainly. But it's also inherited to a certain degree. And so is sexuality. Maybe not entirely. But I think we have strong evidence for that genetic component.”

“No. My brother, Jimmy, is my identical twin.” He swallowed then, but continued. “Was my identical twin. He had the same genes, but none of my defects.”

Sam's eyes shot open wide. “Defects!”

The waitress cleared her throat twice. “I'm sorry, but...can I get you something to drink, sir?”

He sighed. “A water, thank you.”

“Chicken fried rice, no side, please.”

Sam smiled at the woman, who blinked at Castiel's interruption. “Uh, I guess I'll have the lemongrass chicken salad special I saw on the board on my way in. And a ginger tea, please.”

She nodded and slipped away with a little shake of her head.

“Yes, defects. And therefore it cannot be genetic.”

Sam tried to dial back his thoughts to return to their conversation. “What? No, that's fallacious. Having a genetic marker for something doesn't necessarily mean that marker ever became expressed.”

“The flipped switch hypothesis. I don't believe it.”

At last, Sam burst into laughter. “Really? So to what do you attribute the differences between you and your brother?”

“Chance exposure after birth.”

“Hm. I think you're wrong.”

“I'm usually not.”

Sam was already sifting through files in his mind, deciding which journal articles to bring with him for his next encounter with Castiel. “We’ll see.”

“Again, I don't believe that, for reasons I've already stated. There is no fathomable way to definitively study and form theories about such things. Certainly not in any scientific fashion.”

He smiled at his dinner companion. “And that's my second point. Simply because my science is more difficult to study, that doesn't mean it isn't possible to study it scientifically. Biomedical chemists, neurologists, brain specialists of all sorts, and psychiatrists are all continuously working toward a better understanding of why we do and prefer certain things. Maybe we will never understand perfectly. But science is a pursuit of truth, not the capture of it.”

Castiel was quiet for a moment as he mulled this over. His head tipped slightly. “That is a beautiful point of view, Sam. I accept your second point, and you may in fact be correct in your first one. I wonder if terrible parenting is also a genetic condition, yet another defect which expressed itself in me but not my brother. Or perhaps it is a mutation I developed later due to some sort of radiation. I would have preferred superpowers, but it seems that real accidental radiation exposure is only harmful.”

Only the lift of an eyebrow alerted Sam to the fact that Castiel was joking. He allowed himself to laugh, which caused Castiel to smile softly.

“In any case, if being mildly autistic and obsessive compulsive, and a poor example of a guardian are all genetic, maybe I can also blame my DNA for being attracted to body types and faces like yours rather than a woman's. In fact, I'm attracted to you more than any other man I've ever met.” He narrowed his eyes suddenly. “I...I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.”

Sam's own eyes were bright with awe at how perfectly honest and blunt that confession had been. “That doesn't make me uncomfortable, Cas. Not at all.”

Castiel nodded and finally sipped at his coffee. “I'm glad. You're very kind, Sam, and very forgiving of my defects, genetic or otherwise.”

“I don't see any defects, Castiel,” Sam said quietly. “And I'm looking forward to getting to know you better.”


	3. Everybody's Favorite Uncle

Castiel sighed with relief. “So she's okay.”

“She's fine. Even did a bit of homework in the van. Smart kid we've got, Cas.”

He liked the way Bobby said “we,” as though he were taking some responsibility for Claire on himself. “Yes, I know she is. She's got a great deal of potential. If I can ever keep her in school five days in a row, she might even reach some of it.”

“You sound a little better today.”

He felt himself smile, which was always an odd sensation when it wasn't a conscious effort. “I met someone. He claims to be your family.”

“Got a lot of family out there. Nobody I'm actually blood to, but that don't mean much.”

The words tickled in his heart, warming him. “Family doesn't end with blood,” he murmured. Bobby had told him that when Jimmy and Amelia had died, and Castiel had said that Claire was the only family he had left. He had never been so relieved to be corrected.

“So? Which of my other kids you run into?”

That implied that Castiel was among those Bobby considered his kids, and Castiel liked that too. “Dr. Winchester.”

Even after years of studying Bobby's speech patterns and tones, Castiel was still not sure what it meant when the man's voice softened now. “Sam. You met Sam.”

“Yes. He's very kind. We had dinner, and he didn't even leave early.”

Bobby laughed at this, but not in a way Castiel found discouraging. “You want to talk about a kid growing into his potential in spite of everything, there's your poster boy right there.”

“How do you mean?”

There came a quiet snort over the line. “Sam Winchester. Kid had hellfire in his blood. Ran me and his big brother ragged back in the day. You think Claire messes with your sleep cycle? Dean learned to live on four hours a night and sleep so light any noise would wake him, so he could keep track of that little shit.”

This fascinated Castiel. “So perhaps he could talk to Claire. From one very messed up human to another.”

This earned him a barking laugh. “He got his own act together, and so will she. She just gotta know she's got family that's got her back. She don't want it right now, or she thinks she don't. But one day, she will, and when that day comes, you'll be real glad you stuck with her, because she's gonna make you real proud.”

“You're proud of Sam,” he inferred.

“He and his brother...They grew up great. They grew up heros. Dean's a detective downtown hunting monsters, and Sam saves families. Couldn't be any prouder.”

He mulled this over for a moment, then lowered himself to the couch. “Sam is quite remarkable. He is patient, and he listens, and...and I can never be certain, but he didn't seem annoyed by me. And I enjoyed his company very much. That's rare. Most people are too exhausting. But Sam is more like you.”

Bobby hummed neutrally. That is, it sounded neutral.

“I should let you go. I know how much attention it takes to supervise my niece.”

“She's fine, Cas. That kid of mine have anything helpful to say?”

Pleasure filled him at having been asked to continue. Normally people took the easy out when he remembered to provide one. “Many things. He wants to help me figure out how to find time to myself while raising Claire. He said it isn't a sign I'm a bad parent that I need time alone, especially when I'm overwhelmed. And I've hesitated to ask Claire to turn down her music in the house, because she says it is her only outlet, but he says that I should tell her the truth, that it bothers me terribly. Sometimes it's fine, but when I'm particularly stressed, it makes it difficult to breathe when she plays it so loud. I haven't wanted to bother her with my discomfort. A parent must always put the needs of his charge above his own.”

Bobby sighed. “Maybe. But that doesn't mean you can't stand up for yourself. Cas, she's hurting, real bad, and I know you want to be easy on her. But you have to remember how young she is. She needs you to tell her what's okay and what ain't. And walking all over her uncle ain't okay.”

His chest hurt and he wasn't sure why. “It's difficult to talk to her. She's very emotional. Volatile, sometimes. I never know what will make her sad or angry.”

“Cas, she's sad and angry. You don't make her that way. Look, I think it's good that you talk to Sam more. That Roberts lady is going to give you two some proper counseling, but if Sam is willing, I think you'd benefit from that friendship.”

“I don't want to annoy him,” he murmured. “I especially don't like when I find out I've annoyed someone but they were too nice to say so. And Sam is very nice.”

“Let him tell you if he needs a break. Right? Sam's a smart man. He’ll know how to tell you. You don't have to worry about that with this friend. He's educated, Cas, and he knows what to say so you'll understand.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “He's very kind,” he said again quietly. “He didn't even become frustrated with me when I told him how much I like his face. It's a good face. Very handsome, and far easier to read than most.”

“Yeah? And he didn't mind that, huh?”

“He didn't seem to. He laughed a lot, but I don't think he meant it in a cruel way. He has a very nice laugh. I like it.”

“Give him a call later today. My kids are going to wake up soon, and I gotta start herding them to the bus for the tournament.”

He took another long breath. “Of course. I'm sorry. Bobby, I appreciate you very much. Without Jimmy, I've got no one else to talk to. Which is usually fine, except sometimes I need guidance, and you're always honest with me.”

His friend gave him a laugh. “Sam will be too. Give him a chance. I'll call you after the kids have competed.”

“Thank you. Wish Claire well for me.”

Castiel sat on his bed and let out a sigh of relief. Claire was fine. Bobby was still his friend. Bobby liked and trusted Sam, which somehow gave him permission to like and trust him too.

He curled up in the bed, listened to the silence, and dropped into sleep again.

***

“Heya, Bobby.”

“Sam,” the gruff voice returned. “What's on your mind, boy?”

He laughed awkwardly, and was grateful Bobby couldn't see the flush creeping up on his face. “Uh, just checking in. I heard you had a tourney today, so I wanted to say good luck.”

“Don't need luck. Need these kids to start acting like they got some sense and listening to their coach before they embarrass themselves.”

Sam chuckled. “I'm betting they listen better than you think. Dean and I always did. We hung on your every word when you coached us.”

The older man snorted. “Dean nearly punched me, he got so frustrated at me correcting him.”

He dipped his chin and closed his eyes. “I did punch you, Bobby,” he reminded him softly.

“Yeah. And remember what I said about that?”

“You said if I'm going to go around hitting folks, I might as well learn to throw a proper punch. And you taught me that too.”

“Damn right, kid.”

He was so grateful to Bobby for every second chance he had ever been given. Every one stemmed back to the roots Bobby had provided when no one else had been there for two lost, angry boys that the county foster system kept spitting out. Between Bobby Singer and Jody Mills, the Winchester boys had not only made it, but thrived. Sam would never forget to be thankful that Bobby had never given up on him.

“What's on your mind, Sam?” he pressed.

“Oh, I don't know.” He scratched at his neck anxiously. “Just thinking about you. I, um…met a guy. Had some dinner last night.”

He could practically hear Bobby rolling his eyes. “Sam. Conversation works better on the phone when you use words.”

His blush warmed his whole face now. “Yeah, okay. So, I met this-this guy, and he's a little odd, but he's kind of fascinating, you know?”

“I don't know,” Bobby corrected. “You dating him or dissecting him?”

“I-Neither! I just-He's interesting!” Sam chewed on his lip.

“Interesting.”

“Yes! Interesting!”

“Sam, you haven't dated a man since college. Kind of thought you had given up on them completely.”

It wasn't far from the truth. But he shook his head. “I haven't dated anybody since college. It's easier…”

But Bobby had heard before his voice faded off. “Easier to climb into a bed you been in before than to find one that's a better fit.”

“I've had...dates. But no more than a handful before they-Look, I'm really busy. And I don't do the bar scene as well as Dean does.” There were a few numbers he could call to find company for a lonely night, including Cara’s. But it had been a very long time since Sam had felt anything...honest. “Honest,” he murmured, as if he could taste the word. “He's really very...honest.”

Bobby waited quietly.

“I don't like games, Bobby. Somebody always ends up hurt. Dean, he lives for the games, so long as it's all just for fun. But me...I want someone who says what they're thinking and means what they say. This guy...He isn't wired the same as most, you know? He doesn't have anything to hide, and he wouldn't choose to. Does that make sense? He worries that maybe people don't want to hear something, but he doesn't even consider lying or being deceptive in any way. It's just kind of refreshing.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“He's a good man, and a smart one. And he's got a sarcastic sense of humor to him, which is kind of cute considering he often doesn't get other people's humor.”

“Call him.”

Sam felt his chest tightening. “Oh. I don't know. I mean-”

Bobby was always blunt. Sam liked that about both men. “Sam, you just talked about the man's honesty. You gonna be honest with him? And with you? You gonna be honest that you've spent your life scared of getting into a real relationship with anybody that walks on two legs instead of four because you're afraid you ain't enough?”

“That's why I called you,” he sighed. “For my kick in the ass.”

“Boy, if I gotta come back to that town and dial the phone for you, I'm gonna be pissed. My kids’ competition starts in an hour.”

He began to laugh. “No, no, I will. I'll call him. I just needed…”

“A kick in the ass. That's the only reason you ever call Uncle Bobby.”

“Not true!”

“Tell your brother he oughta call now and then too.”

Sam smiled. “Yes, sir.”

***

Bobby rolled his eyes as he hung up his phone. He gestured to the girl nearby to take off her earbuds.

“What?” she demanded. “I wasn't doing anything.”

“I know. That's the problem. Where do you think you are? Your uncle’s house? You pull your weight on my team, kid. Get up and help carry bags to the van. And sit yourself up front with me. We got talk that's overdue.”

Claire sighed, and lifted herself to the job at hand.

Her coach smiled after her fondly.


	4. In a Moment

Castiel wasn't entirely certain how he had ended up here. He could review the sequence of events leading up to this, but that did not really explain it all. 

Firstly, he had awakened from a nap to a phone call. He had stared at the number. He had never needed to save a contact in his phone. Somehow, the number seemed to spell out the person’s name. Until his dying day, he would remember every number from every phone Jimmy had ever used, just as he would know how to write his brother's name. And that combination of numbers on his phone now spelled Sam Winchester. 

“Hello, Sam.”

“Cas! Hey.”

There was a pause, and Castiel wondered why. “Hello, Sam.”

“Yeah. Hey. Hello.”

He frowned. “That is still the vernacular?”

A tight laugh came over the line. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I'm…”

This time when he paused, Castiel waited. 

Sam cleared his throat. “I'm a little nervous,” he admitted softly. 

Castiel's eyes widened in surprise. Only one person had ever said those words to him. Jimmy had been nervous just before his wedding had begun. Beyond that, as far as Castiel could tell, no one else ever felt that way. “You? You're nervous? But why?”

“Because I'd like to-to ask you out again. And it's got me anxious.”

His head was spinning. “I don't understand. You're anxious because you want to ask me to go out. Why would that make you anxious?”

The laugh was easier this time. “Because I don't know if that's something you'd like to do. And if you said no, it would be...awkward.”

“But I won't say no. I don't want you to be nervous. It's an unpleasant feeling.”

“Okay, but are you not saying no because you want to go out and do something, or because you don't want me to be nervous?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

He liked Sam's laugh, but he wasn't sure why he was using it just then. “Well, okay then.”

“You can go ahead, when you're ready.”

“Oh-okay, um...Cas, I enjoyed your company last night, and I was hoping you might like to go out again. If you wanted.”

“No.”

Sam made a sound like a shocked bird. “No? But-but you just said-”

Castiel hurried to clarify. “I don't mean no. I mean I would rather go in than out.”

“I don't understand.”

He licked at his lips. “Sam, you understand that I'm homosexual, right? Did I make that evident last night?”

“Uh, yeah. That's why I...I'm-I'm bisexual myself, and...Well, it's been awhile since I saw a guy, but I thought…”

“So it won't make you uncomfortable.”

“Cas, I'm asking you for a date!”

His dark brows shot up, and he let his mouth fall open. “Oh! No, that's-Good. I thought-I didn't understand…”

Sam sighed in frustration. “Cas, let me begin again, okay? I'm attracted to men too, and you said you were attracted to me, and I think you're attractive, and I enjoy your company, and I'd like to see you again. In or out.”

Pleasure filled his stomach. “I like you, Sam. You're very honest.”

“I like that about you too. But you didn't answer.”

“I apologize. I would enjoy dating with you. And not only because you're the most handsome man I've ever met. You're also intelligent and educated to a degree which I find challenging. And I like how often you laugh. You also listen quite well, which is unusual.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

“And I thought about sex with you all last night.”

Now the sound was less like a bird and more like a puppy. Castiel had no idea what it meant. 

“Are you all right?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I'm just...I'm not used to someone being so forward. But-but I like it.” He laughed. “It kind of skips over the unnecessary bits, doesn't it? Gets straight to the point.”

Castiel hoped the point had to do with sex. It would be okay if it didn't, but he wouldn't be able to help being disappointed. 

“You said you'd rather stay in. Will Claire be home tonight?”

“I don't know yet.” 

“Maybe...Okay. What if we had dinner at your place?”

This was a good idea, and Castiel said so. 

“Good. Great, that's…” Sam sighed in a way that sounded happy. “That's really great, Cas.”

They spent a moment talking out details, and Castiel let excitement take hold. Finally, he blurted out, “Sam, I can't wait.”

Sam had laughed, because Sam always laughed. “Me too. Want to change the time to earlier? I got nothing going on after the office closes at noon. Friday is mostly a paperwork day anyway.”

“Come over as soon as you can. Anytime, really. And, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm so proud that you called.”

***

It was such a strange, lovely thing to say. Sam found the words streaming through his mind for the next two hours. 

“I'm so proud that you called.”

It was impossible to know exactly what Castiel had been thinking when he said it, but it meant a dozen wonderful things to Sam. For one thing, Sam was weirdly proud of himself for calling. It seemed silly, since Castiel had already admitted to finding him attractive. But it was difficult to push through his own insecurities, and even to confess them to Castiel, in an attempt to be honest. He had forced himself to tell Castiel he was nervous. It seemed like the right thing to do somehow, like he was leveling the playing field by explicitly telling Castiel how he felt when someone else might have been able to pick it up from his voice. 

He was proud to have called. 

Castiel had probably meant that he was proud of himself, that he had been good enough company for Sam to want to call again. He had expressed several times the night before that he didn't want to bother or bore Sam. Those blue eyes had searched ceaselessly for signals that Sam wanted to leave. And at the end of the evening, Castiel had grasped Sam's hand in both of his, and had thanked him warmly. Sam had felt the man's strength and his gratitude, and the sensation of their contact had remained the whole drive home. 

Of course he had called. 

Castiel's merciless honesty was a striking foil for Sam's habit of hiding his thoughts from others. When Castiel had told him he had imagined sex between them, Sam had suddenly struggled to breathe properly. He had tried to explain his reaction, since it was obvious that his new friend couldn't interpret it. 

Everything about this adventure was fascinating. Perhaps it wouldn't work at all. It was going to take a concerted effort on his part to learn how to communicate with Castiel. But he wanted to try. Something about Castiel was awakening a dormant part of Sam's heart. Everything the man did, even the things Sam suspected might annoy someone else, was simply endearing. He wasn't afraid of hard work. He just hoped that in the end, he would prove to be enough. 

Sam had never been enough. He had never been worth the effort to anyone except Dean and Bobby. He knew he was exhausting to love, and he had so little to give in return. He saw how Dean had struggled to give him what he needed, how Bobby had selflessly given his time and energy to save Sam from his own anger as a child. If it weren't for Sam, Dean might have been adopted even. 

Dean was the all-American kid, handsome and strong and athletic. There wasn't an awkward bone in his body. Then there was Sam, who had been clumsy, gangly, awkward, who had never made friends easily. Because of Sam, Dean had given up relationships left and right, had pushed away those who might have loved him, because Sam needed him. That wasn't fair. 

Sam hadn't been able to let anyone devote themselves to him as an adult. Not after what loving Sam had put Dean through. As a therapist, he knew exactly what he was doing when he pushed away anyone who showed genuine interest. He couldn't help it. Not until he had something to offer. 

“I'm so proud that you called.”

He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but he wondered if perhaps he had something to offer this strange, wonderful man. 

***

There were some very confusing truths about socializing with humans. Sometimes a smile wasn't a sign of happiness. Sometimes tears were not a sign of sadness. And sometimes people said things that weren't true at all, especially about their feelings. 

Sam was trying. 

It was fascinating how easy it was to communicate with Sam. He could tell that Sam was truly making an effort to be open with him, and he loved him for that. There was none of the guessing he had to do with others. If Sam felt something, he said so. Bobby had been right. Castiel could feel safe with this man. 

The first thing they determined was that neither of them had any idea how to date. Sam had laughed about that, but Castiel had frowned. 

“I was counting on you knowing what to do,” he said dryly. “The first rule of scientific experimentation is that there has to be someone in the room who knows what the hell they're doing.”

“I think there are other first rules.”

“There shouldn't be. That should be the first. If that one isn't covered, you shouldn't move forward.”

Sam was grinning at him from his perch on Castiel's couch. “I think that's only if you already know how the experiment will turn out. If you don't already know the results, it's especially important that the research continue.”

“Chemists like to have an educated hypothesis going in. Otherwise, we end up having to evacuate the lab unexpectedly. No one likes that.”

There was that delighted laugh again. It was so gratifying to know Sam understood his rare breed of humor. Not just understood. Sam participated in his dry sarcasm. 

Contrary to what many who encountered Castiel might think, he found a great deal of the world entertaining. What wasn't confusing was definitely amusing. 

“Well, I may not have much experience dating, but I hope you'll approve my grant proposal anyway.”

“No resources will be allocated until I know what catalyst you're planning to use to get the results you need.”

Delight was apparent on Sam's face. Castiel loved how easy to read the man was. The large man moved nearer to Castiel's end of the couch with a somewhat predatory grin. “That depends. What sort of catalyst do you suggest for turning you on?”

A strange giddiness fluttered in Castiel's chest, and he couldn't take a full breath, not while this man was looking at him like that. Things seemed to be moving very fast. He had only met this man yesterday! But what was the point of long courtships anyway? Castiel knew what he needed to know. Sam was honest, bright, sexy, and inexplicably attracted to him. And Bobby Singer approved. That was probably the crowning argument right there. Bobby approved of Sam, called him a good man. And Jimmy would have liked him. 

“Cas?” Sam breathed. 

He didn't have any idea how he had gotten to this moment. But it was a lovely moment, and he wasn't going to spend time second guessing it. “A kiss might be an excellent place to begin.”

Castiel was pleased to find that Sam agreed.


	5. Feather Fall

The text read, “Idgits made it to final round. Don't ask me how. Back tomorrow night.”

Then a moment later a second came in. “Say hey to Sam for me.”

Castiel beamed at the man waiting to get his lips on him again. “Coach Singer says hello,” he sighed with content.

Sam put his forehead against Castiel's chest and laughed. “That jackass.”

“Would you like me to relay that sentiment? I like texting. Emoticons.”

The man lifted his head to smile at him. “Are they easier than actual faces?” he wondered.

“Much easier. Although they've grown more complex in the last few years. A few that Claire has sent me as her means of checking in as agreed are...inappropriate at best. But a smiling emoticon simply means happiness, so far as I know. And that's my favorite. That and the Guinea pig my brother’s wife used to send me sometimes.”

Castiel had worried that physical intimacy with Sam might prove to be a deal-breaker. He himself was inexperienced, and while it seemed like a better and better idea the closer Sam moved toward him, he was scared that if Sam did something Castiel didn't like, he might panic and it would ruin everything.

But so far, he liked everything Sam was doing. A lot.

Sam had divested them each of their top layers, reducing them to thin tee shirts. But he had stopped there, and Castiel found that he was grateful for that. As much as his whole body was aching for the fulfillment of every fantasy he had indulged in the night before, he was already feeling a little too much sensation. He wasn't accustomed to so much socialization, for one thing. And touch was something he was barely familiar with at all, beyond shaking hands. He liked it, he truly did, but he was beginning to feel like there was too much going on.

So when Sam slowed down without any commentary from Castiel, he was grateful, but a little afraid something had gone wrong. Sam had soothed that worry right away, by assuring him that he simply wanted them both to be comfortable and learn more about one another.

So they had touched, but gently, fingertips brushing faces and lips exploring skin, without any urgency. And they talked. All the while, they let fingers run along arms and through hair, but they talked, and Castiel fell in love with Sam like a feather drifting lazily down to safety rather than any hard crash.

***

Sam liked the way Castiel smelled. It was soap. It was just clean. And that was Castiel himself, just clean. There was nothing hidden under cologne, nothing fake or added on. It was just clean, like the way Castiel spoke, like the way he felt things. When Sam had taken off his jacket and button-down shirt, and helped Castiel out of his, he had watched the blue eyes intently for any sign that Castiel was overwhelmed. When he suspected he might be, he stopped there, and simply kissed him again, gently. Castiel had immediately asked for an explanation, so Sam told him.

It was so unlike any other partner Sam had ever had. Here with Castiel, there was no need to figure out the other person’s motives and intentions. There was no guessing. Each of them were exactly as they appeared. Just clean.

There was play between them, but there were no games. Sam loved that.

“My favorite is the eye roll,” he continued as he ran his hand along the bulk of Castiel's strong arm. Castiel was strong everywhere, Sam had found, and he liked that. Regardless of gender, regardless of body type, he had always admired an athletic partner. Castiel had told him earlier that he had learned as a college student to use the weight room and jogging as a means of coping when overwhelmed as a young man. Clearly, it was still a good strategy, judging by the well-toned muscles all within Sam's reach.

“The eye roll? Claire sends that to me.”

“I send it to my brother Dean whenever he sends me something stupid. Which is most days.” He looked into those bright blue eyes, wide open, with nothing to hide. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?”

Ordinarily, Sam would never be so open himself. He preached deep, meaningful communication with the families he worked with. But when it came to his own emotions, he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest.

But here was a man, a truly good man, who saw the world differently, who saw Sam differently, and some voice inside him spoke from a quiet instinct. This one was safe. This one was strong. This one had put himself out there every day of his life, and survived it all through will. He wasn't like anyone else, but he was like Sam.

“I like you, Cas,” he breathed. “I think...I like you more than I've ever liked anyone before. You feel right, you know?”

Castiel simply watched him.

“I never knew how fast you could fall for someone if it's the right one.”

“With.”

“What?” He had dropped his own eyes, but now he looked back up in question.

“With. You're not falling for me,” he insisted softly. “You're falling with me.”

Sam had never been so relieved to be corrected.


	6. Prosper

The money would hold out. Jimmy and Amelia had been conservative in more ways than one, and their savings and life insurance had been adequate. The sale of their home had been painful but helpful. And of course, Claire had the trust fund she didn't know about.

The money came from her grandfather, and it had originally been Castiel's. It was money left to the twins by their grandparents. Jimmy had received his upon turning eighteen, but of course Castiel had come out to his father at seventeen.

The loss of the money had been bitter, but the loss of his father had been far more devastating to Castiel. Jimmy had quietly offered to refuse his own fund, or to split it with Castiel, but his brother had turned it down flatly.

“I'm not family. I won't take family money.”

Jimmy had sighed. “But you're my family.”

“And that means everything in the world to me. I've got a scholarship. I've got my brother. I don't need anything else.” He cleared his throat. “James, our father has every right to deny this. And even if he didn't, I won't fight him. He isn't being cruel. He's got reasons, and I understand them. He wants his father's money to remain in the family. I won't be getting married. I'll have no children. When our parents are old, you're far more likely to be the one caring for them.”

“That's not the point. None of it.”

Castiel tipped his head slightly, trying to read his brother. “Maybe not. But it should be. It's what's logical.”

“Logic isn't everything, you freaking Vulcan.”

“A new series is coming out.”

“What?”

“It's meant to precede Kirk, after first contact with the Vulcans. I think they're going in the wrong direction, but I'll watch and see.”

Jimmy threw his hands up. Jimmy did that a lot. “Are you seriously talking about Star Trek right now?”

Castiel dropped his gaze. “I was hoping to. You brought it up, and it's a lot more pleasant to think about than our father choosing not to be my Dad.”

His brother had sighed in defeat then. “Yeah. Okay. Tell me what you've heard about the new series.”

Sam was smiling at him sixteen years later. “My brother loves Star Trek. He would never say it, but he does.”

Castiel nodded. “Many people find it to be socially unacceptable to follow a science fiction story like that. But yet they will follow celebrities and their romantic endeavors. I prefer a story with an intention, even if I can't always tell what that intention is.”

Sam ran fingers through Castiel's hair. “And what's the intention of our story? We were strangers at the beginning of the week. We ate dinner Thursday, spent all Friday together. We woke up in the same space after talking all night long. And we've talked most of the morning. What are we now?”

Castiel stared down at him with adoration. “My intention is to keep your attention as long as I can, and be grateful for every moment of it. I don't know what that makes us, but it makes me hopeful.”

Sam sighed happily. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“Would you be my boyfriend?”

“My first priority will always be my niece, who hates me. Is that all right with you?”

A laugh met his dry humor. He loved the way Sam was always laughing. “I understand and respect that. And maybe I can help you two a little here and there.”

“I would take any help I can get. Especially from someone as kind and educated as you.”

A tiny frown suddenly darkened Sam's gaze. “Cas? Do you-Does Claire know you're gay?”

He shrugged. “I think so. Jimmy mentioned it. But we don't talk about it. It didn't seem to matter since I wasn't going to see anyone.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this going to be a problem?” he asked with dread filling his stomach. “Everything is a problem. Is this going to ruin her life even further? I'm not sure I could handle that.”

“No!” Sam said quickly. “No. I just didn't want her to feel ambushed.”

He nodded slowly. “I'm already the worst thing that ever happened to her. Adding you to the mix can only improve things.”

His boyfriend-and that sounded far nicer than he had ever thought it might-smiled. “You were talking about looking for a job when I interrupted to ask you to make us official.”

“Oh. Yes. I was just saying that I don't need the income so much as I need work. Does that make sense to you?”

“Of course. I wouldn't last long without work. I'd lose my head if I didn't have something to do. But, Cas, if you and Claire are financially healthy, maybe you should take some time to work on your health in other ways.”

He tipped his head. “How?”

“You could spend a little time to make yourself happy. To do something you've always wanted to do.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. What do you want to do?”

Castiel thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Caring for Claire takes all my time and energy. And I won't neglect her needs for my own benefit.”

Sam's hand touched his cheek gently. “I promise I'll help you get time to yourself. You need that.”

Shame warmed his face. “I shouldn't. If I didn't have so many defects-If I were more like my brother, I could put Claire before anything else, especially me. She deserves that, and it's what a parent should do.”

“No, sweetheart.”

The endearment shocked him, and he simply stared with naked longing at the man in his bed.

Sam continued, and sat up as he did so. “Cas, you aren't defective, okay? Please. Please don't say that. You're a new parent. Your child isn't a newborn, but you're a brand new parent. And you're going to need to make your own needs a priority. If you don't, you'll never be at your best. And that's what Claire deserves. Not an uncle who will give her everything, but one who will give her his best.”

Blue eyes lowered to stare at the bedsheets as the words soaked into his heart.

“Cas, you aren't defective. The way you are different isn't wrong. The way you're different sometimes makes things more difficult for you. But that doesn't mean it's wrong. And I didn't know it till we met, but the way you're different is exactly what I've been looking for. Any frustrations we have, we’ll deal with together. And they won't always be because of you. Sometimes they'll be because of me. Just...please don't call the man I'm falling for defective.”

Castiel's eyes brimmed with tears, and he hated them, but he couldn't help it. He let them wash his face, and then he let Sam hold him, and he liked that part of their story very much.


	7. Overprotective

The tournament could have gone worse. Claire truly loved archery. Uncle Cas had promised to get her fencing lessons too if she could keep from getting administrative referrals at the high school for a whole month. She hadn't even skipped school in the last week. Not that she hadn't tried. Uncle Cas always seemed to figure out where she was, no matter how far she ran. Duct taping him to that couch when he was so exhausted he didn't wake up at the ripping sound had been so satisfying that she hadn't even bothered to run after. She had just gone to school and let him figure it out. 

She smirked as she thought of it. 

Uncle Cas and Dad were identical, but they looked nothing alike. At all. It was like living with a nightmare version of her father. She tried not to even look at him, because it felt too surreal. At least their voices were totally different. 

Dad would have been at her tournament. Of course, if Dad were still alive, she never would have gone to this school, and never would have learned archery at all. But that was beside the point. Uncle Cas had been so relieved to be rid of her for a night, she thought he might burst into tears as Coach took her to the van. 

But then Coach had sat and lectured her, and just as she was beginning to tune him out, he had said something Claire didn't know. 

“Wait. What?”

Coach glanced at her. The other kids in the back were either passed out or listening to their music or otherwise oblivious, for which she was grateful. “What part was confusing?” he asked in that exasperated tone. 

“Say it again. Uncle Cas what?”

“He's doing all he knows how to do, and you gotta remember he's grieving his brother, the best friend he had his whole life-”

“No, no. About how he's...the way he…”

Recognition flashed in the old man's eyes. “Claire? You know your uncle’s autistic. Right?”

She frowned to herself. “Dad always said he was different. That he thought about stuff differently. I just figured that was the nice way of saying he was weird.”

And now Monday had come, as it did, and she was back at school. She hadn't talked to Uncle Cas even though he had tried to ask her about the tournament. She hadn't felt like talking, but for the first time, she said that aloud instead of simply brushing him off with an eye roll. He had immediately stopped and nodded, and given her space. She had blinked and stared after him, then closed the door to her room and hadn't reemerged till it was time for school the next day. 

She was waiting for Uncle Cas to pick her up after practice, and listening to her music as she leaned on the brick building. It wasn't like her old school, but it was okay. And archery made it worth going. Coach had made it clear that if she skipped school again, she may as well not show up to his range. Claire wasn't stupid. She knew when she was pushing her luck. It was April anyway. She could make it a few more weeks till summer just going through the motions. 

A hand touched her elbow, and she turned with a start. She plucked an earbud out and frowned. “You scared me.”

The boy shrugged with a sly smile, as if he kind of enjoyed that reaction. “Want to come skate? Me and the guys are going to the bridge.”

Claire shook her head. “No. I'm going home. My uncle would flip if I checked out again.”

“Your uncle’s a psycho. I hear he threatened a couple of guys you were with last week.”

“He's not a psycho. He's just overprotective.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. That him there? In the pimpmobile?”

Claire glanced and cringed. “Yeah. He's pretty lame. I better go.”

But the boy took hold of her arm. “Wait. Let's just see if he’ll go threatening me. I'll kick his ass, and you won't have to worry about him telling you what to do.”

She looked up at him. The guy was a senior, big and brazen. He had more bulk than most skaters Claire hung out with, but was still lean. And beautiful. The guy was gorgeous. And most days, Claire would be happy he even noticed her. “I should just go.”

Uncle Cas was stepping out of the car now, and she wished he wouldn't. But things were happening faster than she could react. “Claire? Aren't you coming?”

“She doesn't want to go,” the senior answered for her with a laugh. “And you can't make her.”

A frown crossed those blue eyes that were so much like Dad's, but not at all at the same time. “Claire? It's time to go home. Does your friend need a ride? Preferably to someplace well-lit and supervised by adults? Like a library? Or zoo?”

A tiny smile came over her. Was that a joke? Was Uncle Cas joking? 

But the boy shook his head. “She's coming skating with me, old man.”

“She isn't,” Uncle Cas stated plainly, and he stepped forward. 

“What's your freaking problem, man? You think she wants to hang out with her crazy, retarded uncle instead of going out with her friends?”

Claire turned to stare at him. “What?”

Uncle Cas swallowed. His face was reddening, but his voice was calm. “Claire, please get into the car. It's time to go home.”

From the corner of her eye, Claire could see a few of the soccer guys wandering out of the weight room after practice. Most were laughing amongst themselves, but a few were beginning to notice the exchange on the sidewalk. 

The senior was laughing too, but there was a cruel sting to it. “Leave her alone, creep. Just get your retarded ass back into that piece of crap car, and stop playing Daddy. There's a reason you don't have kids, you freak. She's better off taking care of herself.”

“Just stop.”

But she realized too late that this had little to do with her, and everything to do with trying to get a reaction from his victim. “You gonna hit me, retard? Or maybe you're going to just get back in that car and go, and I'm going to take the girl wherever I want.”

Claire could see the crowd of athletes forming nearby, mostly whispering to each other. 

“Claire? You okay?” one called. “These guys bothering you?”

The senior cackled. “Yeah, the creep in the coat is bothering her. But I got this. Fucking retarded-”

“Claire, please get in the car, and let me handle-” Uncle Cas was saying. 

Before either of them could finish, Claire had whirled and thrown her fist into the senior’s face. The entire soccer team cried out, then began to whoop and cheer as the boy fell to the ground, cradling his nose. 

“Fucking bitch!” he screamed. 

Uncle Cas lifted an eyebrow and took a step back. 

Tears streamed down Claire's face, but she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and stood as straight as she could. “I got this,” she corrected in a strong voice she prayed would hold. “And for the record? He's got a kid. Me. If he's a freak, so am I. He's my family. So whatever you say to him, you're saying about me. And if you don't keep your mouth shut, I'll shut it for you.”

The soccer coach came hurrying out of the weight room to demand an explanation, and the guys waved Claire off. The one in her Geometry class who had asked if she was all right winked at her and spoke up. “Dude fell on his face, Coach. Funniest thing I ever saw. He was talking trash, and then tripped and fell on his face.” 

While the other boys were confirming that was what they had all seen, in spite of the cursing from the boy bleeding from his nose, Claire grabbed her uncle’s arm to lead him toward the car. 

“Is that boy all right?”

“Coach Henriksen will take care of it. Come on. I can't get another referral for punching somebody.”

It wasn't until the two of them were halfway home that Claire managed to stop shaking. 

Uncle Cas took a breath finally. “Claire, did that boy hurt you at all?”

“My hand hurts.”

“I'll look at it when we get home.”

“I'm sorry, Uncle Cas.”

He stared hard at the road ahead. “You shouldn't have hit him. But you didn't do anything wrong.”

“I mean for everything. I'm sorry.”

“So am I.” Uncle Cas sighed heavily. “Claire, did you mean what you said? Those things you told him?”

Claire was having trouble remembering exactly what she had told him. “Like what?”

“Like...being family.”

She turned to look out her window. “Of course we’re family. You're my uncle. And I'm...I'm your kid. And I'm not going to let some loser talk about you like that.”

He was quiet for a time, but as they pulled into the drive, he spoke again. “You don't have to defend me, Claire. People have called me many things over the years. It's nothing new. I can take care of myself.”

“And I can take care of myself, but you're doing that. And if I never said it...thanks for that.”

Now that the car was parked, she could feel his gaze on her. “You...never said it,” he confirmed. “And you don't have to say it. And thank you for saying it.”

Claire smiled a little, and stepped out of the car. “I want a cheeseburger.”

“So do I,” he said softly. 

“So make some, and I'll tell you about my tournament.”

She could feel his goofy smile, so she didn't have to bother looking back. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed into the house. Into their home.


	8. Wayward Together

“So? How'd you end up a Wayward Daughter?”

Sam tried not to look at the girls sitting by the pool. But he listened. He had spoken at length with Claire, not as a therapist, but as a friend, over the last week. They had talked about what autism was, about ways she and Castiel could communicate better, about how each of them could have their space but still build trust between them. Claire had admitted that she was suddenly seeing her uncle as a whole person instead of just a ghost of her father when she looked at him. She said that she could finally see the uncle she had always loved but never knew well, instead of a replacement for her father. Sam thought it was an excellent start. They had a lot of work to do, and Dr. Roberts was going to be very busy. But it was a start. 

“What's that mean?”

Alex snorted. “It's what I call Jody and Sam's little support group for angsty misfits,” she said with a smirk in her voice. “Like we're the Justice League or something.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't really care.”

The other girl didn't seem to care that she didn't care. She placed her feet in the pool. “Look, it's a small town. And you got issues. You might as well make a friend.”

Claire frowned at her. “What makes you think-”

“Sam only brings girls with issues here to Jody's. Over there, that's Krissy. She's a head case, but she's pretty cool. And over there is Kate. Just lost her sister in a weird accident.”

“My parents died a while back.”

“My foster mom got killed by a group of new age vampires.”

Sam couldn't help glancing up to see Claire staring. “Really?”

“No. But she blew up the house making meth, so...I tell a different story to everybody I meet. You looked like the vampire type.”

“Alexis Ann! Stop messing with the new girl!” 

Sam snickered as Krissy Chambers stalked up to the other two. 

“You told Josephine Barnes that you were raised by cat people who travelled with a circus before DSS took you away.”

Alex shrugged at Claire. “That was before the meth lady.”

“And you told Lily Baker that you were given the kiss of death by a dude in the mafia, and that's why you are in witness protection.”

She nodded soberly. “You see a lot of very bad stuff when traveling with a circus.”

Claire giggled. 

Sam smiled to himself. He knew that Alex’s story was far less colorful and far more painful. He wasn't surprised she wasn't inclined to tell anyone. 

“Is she making friends?” Castiel hissed in his ear. 

He laughed and pulled his boyfriend away from the poolside by his elbow. “Shh! Cas, you have to let the girls talk without you hovering!”

Dean looked up from the grill. “Cas, come here.”

The man gave one last worried glance at his charge, then did as he was told. 

Sam watched his big brother throw his arm around Castiel's neck, pointing with his beer bottle around his shoulders. “See this? This is meat.”

The doctor smirked at his brother fondly. 

“I'm aware that it's meat, Dean.”

Dean handed him the beer in his other hand. “This is beer.”

“Yes, I-”

“Over there? That's salsa.”

“I don't know why-”

“So this must be a cookout. Am I wrong?”

Sam sighed and shook his head with a smile. 

Castiel's eyes narrowed. “You are not. This is, in fact, a cookout.”

The older man gave him a nod. “Okay. So I don't know what kind of cookouts you've been going to all your life, but you're doing it wrong.”

“I haven't been to many-”

Dean released him finally, but clearly wasn't finished with him. “Then you're going to get an education.”

Sam laughed. “Go easy, Dean.” They had talked about this. Sam had worried that Dean would confuse the hell out of his new boyfriend. And clearly he did. But Castiel was holding his own rather well, considering, and it was distracting him from Claire. 

The fact that Dean was literally taking Castiel under his wing-or arm-made Sam very happy. “He's good,” Dean insisted. “Cas, you're good, right?”

“I try to be.”

Dean's cackle brightened the whole area, and Sam loved him for it. “I bet you do, kid,” he said fondly. 

Sam sighed happily. It had not even occurred to him that Dean would actually give Castiel a chance, let alone like him. When he had decided to invite Castiel and Claire to the gathering he and Jody had already planned for the weekend after the archery tournament, he had assumed he would be a ball of anxiety at this point, trying to run interference for them both. But Claire had been quiet yet receptive when introduced to Jody and Dean and the girls. Castiel had been enamored of Jody right away, and he and Dean had shocked Sam by hitting it off immediately.

It was after Dean had taught Castiel to grill and they had all eaten their fill, when Dean sat next to Sam. He had relinquished the cleaning to Jody, who had insisted, and poured himself into one of the chairs by the pool. “Glad you still call me in for things like this,” he sighed.

Sam smiled at him. Castiel was helping Jody, and hanging on her every word as if he were memorizing how she did everything, which he likely was. He loved how his friends had accepted Castiel and Claire as family. “Glad you still come in for things like this.”

Dean looked pleased. “Yeah, well, where would you all be without the grill master? Can't let my boy starve after keeping him alive all these years, can I?”

My boy. Sam lowered his eyes and softened his smile. “You ever wish your boy had been better at taking care of himself all these years?”

His brother turned to him in surprise. “What's that mean?”

He gestured out at the girls playing in the water. “Come on, man! I was one of them. I was so angry all the time, and I didn't even know why.”

“I knew why.”

Sam looked back up and stared. 

Dean heaved a sigh. “Man, we were both screwed up. Okay? Don't pretend it was just you. Only difference was that I had you to look after. I had to stow my crap so I could take care of my little brother. You kept me going, man. I don't want to think about where I'd be right now if it weren't for you. Not wearing a uniform, that's for damn sure. Or if I was, it'd be orange.”

“But…” 

“Look, man. You weren't the only one pissed at the universe. I just had somebody relying on me, so I had to get it together. You had somebody relying on you too, but you didn't know it.”

After all this time, it had never crossed Sam's mind that he had been what had held his brother together, or even that there had been a danger of him falling apart at all. 

He shrugged. “Some days I think on all the good we've done, both of us, and how it could have gone another way, for us both. It's been a hard road so far, Sammy. But I'm proud of us.”

There were times when Dean was being goofy, when Sam could roll his eyes and pretend he didn't find him hilarious. But there would never be a time when he could pretend the older man wasn't his hero. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

Dean nodded, and glanced behind them at the other adults. He cleared his throat. “So, Cas. He's a weird, nerdy little guy, isn't he?”

Sam laughed now, and felt the emotion tightening his chest ease. “Yeah. A little.”

His eyebrow went up. “A little? I now know the caloric and nutritional content of everything that went into my mouth today.”

“No you don't.”

“No,” he agreed, “but only because I wasn't paying that much attention. He's something.”

Sam turned to watch his boyfriend nodding very deliberately at Jody, to encourage her to keep talking. He laughed softly. “He's something special. Something I didn't know I was looking for.”

Dean's quiet, serious tone surprised him. “And he's going to be able to give you what you need? Be what you need? Emotionally, I mean?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, it’s going to work.”

“Okay. He makes my kid brother happy, and he’s got Bobby's seal of approval. He even makes Jody laugh. And Donna is going to adore him.”

Sam brightened, and looked back at his brother. “Yeah? How is the most badass of Winchesters anyway? How come she's not here?”

“She wanted to be. But duty calls. Nobody can say she doesn't put the job first. But if she can wrap things up, she will be here by tomorrow morning.”

“Good. The girls love her. She and Jody are good role models for them. Isn't that funny? Donna isn't a mom, but she's got all the instincts of one. Pretty sure there's nothing she can't do.”

All of the sudden, Dean’s face softened into an expression Sam had never seen before. He felt his head tipping to try to identify the emotion in his brother's eyes. 

“Dean? What is it?”

The green eyes were wide, and yet they didn't meet Sam's. There was something of a half smile, almost sheepish, and a rapid blinking that Sam didn't understand, but found himself mimicking without meaning to. Dean snorted but it was gentle. 

“Dude?”

He cleared his throat. “Donna's a mom,” he said hoarsely. “She's pregnant.”

Sam's mouth dropped, and after a second of staring, he tackled his brother in a bear hug. He knew several of the guests were watching and wondering, but he didn't care. “That's so awesome!” 

Dean laughed and shoved Sam off of him. “World's got room for one more badass Winchester.”

“Yeah! That's-Dude! I'm an uncle!” He clapped his hands over his mouth. “Are we allowed to tell anyone?”

“Yeah. She wanted me to tell you guys tonight so, as she put it, everyone would be done hugging and congratulating me, and she could be the center of the family for once.”

Sam gave a loud laugh. “She and I have bitched about your overpowering charisma on many occasions. That's so incredible! Dean! I'm going to be an uncle!”

The older man scowled through his grin. “I'm going to be a father, Sammy. That's the bigger news here.”

“Maybe for you! I'm already planning!”

Green eyes rolled now. “Don't get carried away. We got five months still.”

“You didn't tell me for four months?” he shouted. 

At last, Dean stood, since it was clear that Sam wasn't going to sit. “It was Donna's-”

“What's going on over there?” Jody called. “Dean? You get a promotion or something?”

Sam watched his brother beaming with pride. “Yeah. To daddy. And Sam got one to uncle. Cas can teach you how.”

Blue locked onto Sam's hazel. After a tiny hesitation, Castiel smiled. 

He sighed happily. The girls were rushing forward to ask about Dean's news, and the adults were gathering to express their best wishes and give advice. Sam made his way to his boyfriend and took his hand. “You doing okay?”

Castiel nodded. “You'll be an uncle too?”

“Five months.”

“It's a lot of work.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Claire watching them. 

“But it is infinitely worth it to be able to watch them grow. I remember holding Claire and thinking she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had no idea then just how much more beautiful she would become. Being an uncle is a lot of work. But I recommend it.”

Sam could see Claire taking a shuddered breath, then slipping quietly back into the background of Sam's friends and family. He smiled at Castiel. “I'll know who to ask for advice,” he responded, pecking him quickly on the lips. 

******

Bobby just smiled when he heard the news over the phone. “I'm real happy for you. Ain't nobody who can do it better. You call me every chance you get, and I'm always gonna be here for you if you or the little bit needs me.”

Donna hummed with pleasure. “Thank you, Uncle Bobby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Bobby approves. He also says comments are good. At least, I think that's what he said. 
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
